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“Sure,” he growls, pushing himself up. He looks down at himself, brushing off leaves and twigs. “Nothing like a sharp branch in your spine to start the evening.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“It wasn’t your fault. But I’ll be having a serious word with Billy’s mom when I see her. That kid is lethal.”
We’re both a little breathless from the fright, but after taking a moment to gather ourselves, we head into the bar. Just as expected, nearly every head turns when we enter, and I feel heat rush to my cheeks.
“Keep moving,” Jake says, pressing a gentle hand to the base of my spine.
We walk past the other diners, all eyeing us as we move to sit at a vacant table. When we are finally seated, I can still feel their beady eyes boring into the back of my head.
“This was a mistake,” I whisper.
“It’ll be fine,” Jake soothes, his earlier sarcasm clearly gone.
A waitress I don’t know arrives at the table with menus. She’s likely one of the locals’ kids because I wouldn’t put her past seventeen years old. At least our server isn’t going to hate my guts.
Once we’ve ordered, I glance around us to see if I can see Bryan. All this is going to be a waste of time if he doesn’t show. I can’t see him, but at least the other diners seem to have gotten their curiosity out of the way and are far too busy eating to pay us any more attention.
Twenty minutes later, while I’m eating my spaghetti and meatballs and Jake is enjoying his burger and fries, I catch sight of Bryan walking in.
“There he is,” I murmur.
“Where?” Jake looks up, but in the wrong direction.
“There,” I say, flicking my fork to my left.
Only I must have flicked it a little too hard because the meatball that was attached to it flies through the air. To my utter dismay, it lands in a child’s lap at the next table over.
“Hey,” he yells.
And the next thing I know, there’s a handful of fries heading in my direction. I manage to duck, and they hit a kid sitting behind me. He spins around, and a sausage flies across the room. It hits someone else.
In a matter of minutes, there’s food flying everywhere. This would never happen in New York, nor would there be laughter and great joviality in the process. But this is Baskington, where the people are clearly nuts.
The food fight goes on for nearly twenty minutes. Jake doesn’t actually engage in any throwing, but he certainly finds the whole thing entertaining, sitting across from me almost spotless and laughing his head off while I’m covered in everything from ice cream to spaghetti sauce.
Later, much later, when both staff and the diners have cleaned up, we head back to Mom and Dad’s. In truth, I would say the fake date was a complete disaster. Rather than a serious dinner where I got to showcase Jake as my new boyfriend, it turned into a complete circus. I’m sure Bryan must have wondered if he had fallen through a tear in the timeline and landed in an alternate universe.
When Jake pulls up outside the house, he turns to me with a huge grin.
“That was fun.”
I look down at my completely ruined outfit and then glare at him. “Sure. Tons,” I spit.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, telling me to get out without actually saying the words. “6:30 sharp.”
“What?” I balk.
“Hey”—he smiles—“a deal’s a deal.”
8
Jake
The date couldn’t havegone any worse, and standing on the porch this morning, sipping my steaming coffee, I’ve started wondering what on Earth I was thinking when I agreed to it. From falling into bushes to food fights, it was like something out of a Buster Keaton movie.
If not for Keith and Bill knowing me so well, we likely would have been thrown out, even if Tilly starting the commotion was only an accident. I suppose it was fun in a way. In fact, I haven’t laughed as much in a while.
